The sun dipped low, casting a glow over the small town of Drendam. In her modest flower shop, Iris Edda arranged a bouquet of lilies. It was the quietest time of day— the last rays of light stretched across the wooden counter, and the shop hummed with solitude. The bell above the door tinkled, breaking the silence. Iris looked up to see a man standing in the frame, shifting from one foot to another. His eyes darted around the shop like he was deciding whether or not to stay. He was tall, with a rugged face and sad eyes.

“Can I help you?” Iris asked, wiping her hands on her apron.

The man nodded, his voice low and gravelly. “I need flowers. Something meaningful.”

Iris tilted her head. “A celebration?”

“A goodbye,” The air thickened, making Iris hesitate before asking, “What kind of flowers do you have in mind?”

The man shrugged. “Something that says what words can’t.”

Iris studied him a moment. There was something oddly familiar about him. Wordlessly, she moved around the shop selecting flowers. White roses for remembrance, lavender for serenity, and a single yellow tulip for forgiveness.

“Who are they for?” she asked gently as she tied the bouquet with a ribbon.

The man hesitated. “Someone I loved and lost a long time ago.”

Iris nodded thoughtfully. She handed him the bouquet and their fingers brushed. It was a whisper of a touch but it felt so achingly familiar. It was gone before she could grasp it.

“How much?” he asked, pulling out his wallet.

“It’s on the house,” she said, surprising them both. The man opened his mouth to protest, but Iris held up a hand. “Sometimes, flowers are more than just flowers.”

He nodded, his eyes softening. “Thank you.” As he turned to leave, Iris called after him. “What’s your name?”

He paused, hand on the doorframe. “Benn.”

The name struck like a lightning bolt. Memories flooded her—long nights, stolen kisses, and whispered promises beneath the stars. Benn Tiller, the boy who had vanished ten years ago.

“Wait!” she yelled, her voice trembling.

Benn stopped but didn’t turn around.

“You’re Benn Tiller.”

He sighed, “You shouldn’t remember me, Iris.”

Her heart pounded. “Why? Where did you go?”

He turned slowly, eyes meeting hers. They were the same eyes she had fallen in love with once, but now they were clouded with pain. Iris stepped closer, her voice a whisper. “Tell me.”

Benn looked around the shop, as if searching for the right words. “I left because I had no choice. There are things about me you don’t know—things I kept hidden to protect you.”

“From what?”

“From me.”

The cryptic answer sent a chill down her spine. “Benn, what are you talking about?”

He clenched his jaw, tightening his hands around the bouquet. “I’m a bad person, Iris. I’ve done-done horrible things.”

 “What kind of things?”

He hesitated, his eyes pleading with her to let it go. She didn’t. “Benn,” she pressed. “I need to know.”

He exhaled shakily, “I killed a man.”

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, all Iris could hear was the pounding of her own heart

“It was an accident,” he continued. “But I ran. I thought if I disappeared, it would too. I wanted to spare you.”

Iris stared at him, the boy she had loved and the man he had become. She wanted to reach out, to comfort him, but fear held her back. “You’re here now?” It came out as a question.

 “I needed to see you, to say goodbye before…”

“Before what?”

He looked away. “Before I turn myself in.”

The realization hit her. He came to say goodbye not just to her but to his freedom.

Benn read the horror in her eyes. “I have to make things right.” Before she could protest, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.

Pulling away, he set the bouquet on the counter. “Goodbye, Iris.”

And with that, he walked away, leaving her with her flowers, the ache of a love that could never be, and so many questions.